


Kingpin

by acta_est_fabula



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not sorry, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28023207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acta_est_fabula/pseuds/acta_est_fabula
Summary: A chance meeting between an anarchist and the young president of L'Manberg.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 8
Kudos: 131





	Kingpin

**Author's Note:**

> Story takes place on Tommy's day of exile. Feedback and comments are greatly appreciated!

The day’s events, to put it bluntly, had gone to complete shit. 

Tubbo’s hands trembled as he sat in the Camarvan, pouring himself a cup of tea to help soothe his throat. As the fragrant scent of lavender tea wafted through the air, the confrontation from earlier clanged around in his head. 

_Tommy’s look of utter horror and betrayal, his voice cracking from disbelief._

_Quackity and Fundy standing behind him, screaming shrilly._

_And Dream-_

Tubbo’s fist clenched around his cup, ignoring the scalding pain searing the palm of his hand. He replayed Dream’s words, the small knowing smirk on the man’s face as he uttered them. 

_“You’re the best leader that L’Manberg’s ever had. I trust that you’ll always make the best decision as a gracious leader and that I trust that the decision you came to was the best one for L’Manberg.”_

Had he known then? Did he play right into Dream’s hands by exiling his dearest friend? Was it as Quackity and Fundy said: all of L’Manberg were merely marionettes for Dream to toy with--the ultimate puppet master?

The questions came and went rapidly, and Tubbo found himself unable to produce sufficient answers to any of them. 

_Did I really do the right thing?_ He wondered. _I just sent my best friend away to an unfamiliar land, accompanied by one of our strongest enemies. Have I sent him off to his execution? Where will he go with Ghostbur, now that he’s been exiled?_

Tubbo shook his head. He couldn’t dwell on that now, there were so many things to be sorted out: the walls around L’Manberg still had to be torn down, an envoy to the Badlands had to be sent to properly negotiate and flesh out a peace treaty, and--

From the window came three short raps, the sudden noise jolting Tubbo to high alert. He stood so quickly that in his haste, his tortoiseshell teacup fell over, spilling the lukewarm liquid onto the oaken planks of the table. _Who could it be this late?_ Tubbo wondered. Fundy and Quackity had left together earlier in the evening to discuss “private matters''--though he knew they were wandering around with George, Karl, and Sapnap in Mexican L’Manberg--Ranboo and Phil had already retired for the night, and Eret was busy negotiating with Dream about his reinstated kingship. 

With that train of thought, the first notes of vertigo arose. 

Tubbo spun around, and beyond the glass panes stood a familiar peach haired man, dawned in his signature ornate cloak billowing in the breeze. He swallowed. To say that he and Techno were at odds with each other would be a bit of an understatement; the last time they met, Techno had threatened to “kill them all until there was no government left” and that if a government did arise, it would be “over his dead body”. 

In other words, they didn’t exactly have the best of relationships, and certainly weren’t on speaking terms. 

For a moment, they both stood there, staring at each other: cerulean eyes meeting crimson ones. At least, Tubbo imagined them boring into him; the pale gleaming boar skull Techno wore obstructed any upper facial features, with only his mouth and chin visible. The mask dipped slightly towards the ground as Techno lifted his arm and made a beckoning motion. The message was clear: _come outside or else I’ll come to you._

The blonde hesitated. If he were to step outside, he would be met with his certain demise. But barricading himself inside the van wouldn’t do much good either--the windows could easily be shattered and it would only be a matter of time before the other man crawled in himself. _Better for me_ , Tubbo thought grimly, _to face him head-on. Just like how Tommy and Wilbur would’ve._

Thinking about the two brothers caused a pang of sadness to wash over him. He never did properly get to say goodbye to Wilbur after being elected president, had he? And now, with death lurking merely a few feet away from him, he would never get to give Tommy a proper farewell either. _He’ll probably think I died hating him_ , Tubbo thought miserably. _That I no longer saw him as my friend._ Another knock came, this one louder than the previous ones. Tubbo grimaced. “No use in delaying the inevitable,” he muttered. With a hefty sigh, the president trudged to the exit, and slowly pushed the door open. 

Instantly, the cool evening breeze washed over him as Tubbo stepped outside, clanging the steel door shut. The sight of the pinkette greeted him as he glanced to the right, leaning against the Camarvan casually, clad in his lavish attire. Techno gave the younger man a nod of acknowledgment.

“Tubbo.”

“Blade,” he replied curtly.

Tubbo shoved his hands into the pockets of his woolen dress pants and willed himself to maintain a neutral face. _Cool, calm, and collected. Just like how Big Man would be. Scratch that, if it were Tommy in this situation, he’d be all up in Techno’s face, yelling and screaming at him. Blustering and telling him about how much he hates him, and how if he didn’t spawn in those withers, L’Manberg wouldn’t have been destroyed and Dream wouldn’t have exiled him-_

“You alright there Tubbo? Looks like your mind’s going at a hundred miles a second,” Techno quipped, a small smirk quirking his lips. “I’m not here to kill you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The president blinked. “You’re not?”

The taller man snorted. “As much as people think of me as some ‘ruthless, bloodthirsty traitor’--which I’m not, seeing as I’ve been transparent with my goals from the start--the thrill of the fight is what I like the most. Not the killing part.” Techno eyed him up and down and Tubbo resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself as if that alone could serve as a shield from the other man’s appraising eyes. “You’ve got nothing on you. No armor, nor any weapons. Killing a defenseless man would be much too easy.”

“That didn’t stop you from executing me at the festival,” Tubbo rasped pointedly.

“I did so quite hesitantly. Nobody from Pogtopia thought to give me some kind of plan to follow-- I didn’t even know that Wilbur and Tommy weren’t invited until mere minutes before the celebrations began,” Techno shot back. “And we’ve already resolved that issue, haven’t we? You gave me your forgiveness. I’ve already said it, what happens in the pit-”

“Stays in the pit, yeah I know.” The accusatory note in his voice died down just as quickly as it flared up. A momentary silence fell between the two of them until Tubbo’s curiosity got the best of him. “So if you’re not here to assassinate me, what are you here for then, Blade?”

"Figured we could have a bit of a chat, seeing after what happened today." The other man pushed off the side of the vehicle and straightened up to his full height. "Walk with me a bit, won't you?” Tubbo gave a small, nervous hum of agreement. “After you then.”

The two of them set off climbing up the steps to Karl’s residence, Tubbo struggling to keep pace with the taller man. His heart raced as they began the ascent, and he swore he could feel it threatening to burst from his chest. _Had something happened with Dream and Tommy in the mere hours of his exile? Or perhaps Quackity and Fundy had already begun their “Butcher Army” propaganda efforts? Or maybe even gone so far as to attack the Blade themselves, and had paid with their lives. Tubbo’s stomach lurched. He had sent Tommy away to appease Dream’s wants in a desperate bargain for peace; if the other members of the cabinet initiated another conflict just as one was quelled…_

“Here.” Techno’s gravelly voice snapped Tubbo out of his thoughts. The president looked up to see the other man perched on top of the ebony walls. Techno exhaled, blowing a few rosy strands of hair out of his mask’s eye sockets. An arm was offered, and Tubbo took it, grasping the calloused hand tightly as he was hauled up. 

“I could’ve climbed up myself, you know,” Tubbo said, as they dropped down and continued their trek through upwards and through the dimly lit wind tunnel. Techno gave a noncommittal grunt, neither refuting nor confirming his claim. Once the two of them made their way out of the passageway, they took a few steps forward and paused in front of Tommy’s house; Tubbo’s heart suddenly felt two sizes too large in his chest as he gazed upon the empty unlit dwelling. A sharp clap on his shoulder startled him back to reality. As Tubbo turned to face Techno, he was struck by how tall the other man was. Though the president was relatively average in stature, the human-piglin hybrid towered over him, cutting an imposing figure in the feeble moonlight. And while Techno looked utterly composed--dressed primly in his standard attire of a pale tunic, dark trousers, and his silky, satin cape--Tubbo felt utterly out of place next to him. He glanced down at his own outfit: the presidential outfit he was dressed in was rumpled and battered. Sloppy. As if the clothes he wore were a reflection of his inner self. 

“Let’s take a seat over there then.” Techno began to guide them over to the bench. The music bench: another solemn reminder of what could’ve been. Tubbo sat heavily, while the other man elected to lean against the tree. Seeing as the pinkette wouldn’t say anything until prompted, Tubbo asked softly, “Why did you bring me here, Blade?”

“As I said earlier, I thought it would be prolific if we had a chat after what happened today. With the whole exile and all.”

“You were there then?”

“Yep,” Techno said, enunciating the last syllable with a popping sound. “Even overheard your small gathering prior to the meeting with Dream too.”

“Then…you know then. About-”

“Yes. Your half-baked scheme,” Techno huffed, “to get me to protect your nation. To put my life on the line to fight a war that I have no stake in, against one of the strongest enemies to ever exist. How is that your cabinet full of such incompetent idiots?”

“Hey, they’re not that bad,” Tubbo protested weakly. 

“Oh?” Techno hiked up his cape so that it wasn’t dragging on the ground. “You’re telling me that it’s not a suicidal move to go after me, just after you made the choice to exile the vice-president in a bid for peace?”

The teen sighed, rubbing his palms against his legs. “There wasn’t much I could do to sway Quackity or Fundy really; they were the ones who came up with the whole ‘Butcher Army’. I was hoping that they’d be a bit more rational than to start another conflict, but I couldn’t exactly dissuade them after making the,” he winced, “executive decision to exile Tommy.” All-day, Tubbo knew that it was his choice to send Tommy away--and his alone. Even then, it still hadn’t felt real, as though it was some kind of far off nightmare. But saying aloud seemed to cement the idea, that Tommy was really gone. Tears began to prick at his eyes a bit, but he quickly blinked them away. He couldn’t afford to cry, especially in the face of a formidable warrior as Technoblade.

“I was surprised that you went through with the decision to exile Tommy,” Techno remarked slowly, as though he could read Tubbo’s thoughts. “Seeing as you two are quite close to one another.”

“Before Wilbur went off and died,” Tubbo said bitterly, “he left me in charge of this nation. Despite all the terrible things he did at the end of his life, he was still a good person for the most part. He was charming, understanding, but most importantly, when you worked with him, it felt as though all of us were sharing his dream. As if we could set out and accomplish anything.”

“He was a very convincing person,” Techno admitted. “Even when we were younger, it was always Wilbur who was the one that came with our plans for the day. He was a political mastermind and a natural-born leader.” 

The blonde nodded slowly. “I want to believe that Wilbur’s L’Manberg still exists, Blade. That despite Schlatt, despite it being blown up by Wilbur, despite the chaos that rained down from your Withers,” giving the taller man a half-hearted glare of disapproval, “L’Manberg can still thrive. That we can all build it up again, even from the ashes.” 

There was a rustling noise, and Tubbo turned his head to see Techno removing his mask, shaking his head to free a few loose tufts of hair loose. The president was transfixed at the sight: even when they were younger, Techno rarely let people outside of his family see his face. Tubbo could count on one hand the times that he and Techno had met face to face. Techno, despite his blood, was surprisingly human-looking; the only feature that was out of place were his elfish, pointed ears. The pinkette glared at Tubbo. “What is it?” he muttered.

“Nothing. Just surprised to see taking off your mask, that’s all. I’ve hardly seen you without it.”

“If we’re going to be talking about the matters of the heart,” Techno grumbled, “you might as well be able to see my face. Phil says that it’s a good way to let others get to know you better, though I don’t see why I should do that, seeing as how well that worked out last time.” 

For a second, Tubbo resisted the sudden urge to laugh, instead stifling his amusement with a small cough and a smile. It was less of the removal of the mask, and more of Techno sounded like a petulant child, unwilling to accomplish some tedious task assigned to him. _Who would’ve thought,_ Tubbo thought amusedly, _that even the infamous Blood God had to listen to his father?_

“You didn’t answer my question Tubbo. Why’d you change up on the rest of em, instead of just telling them your decision?” 

“...Tommy’s loyalty lies elsewhere, not to L’Manberg. Even if he’s my best friend, I can’t just jeopardize an entire nation just because he wants to pick fights that we can’t win. It was either that or go to war with Dream, and I-”, and here, Tubbo’s voice cracked. He took a shuddering breath, then barrelled on. “I know that Tommy will put his life on the line for his discs. But I can’t stand to see him die again.” Tears pricked his eyes as the thought of losing his friend overwhelmed him. “I thought that by exiling him, maybe Dream will leave him both us and him alone, and from there we can start plotting to get his discs back. But as of now, this nation doesn’t have the resources to undertake another war effort, Blade. We don’t have enough fighters to properly go after Dream and his army.

“And as for why I didn’t tell the others about my decision, it’s because I know, deep down, that nobody really respects my decisions. Not even Tommy. Despite them claiming to ‘trust me,’” he used air quotes, “they still see Tommy as their leader. Even if I shouted at them until I was blue in the face, Big Q and Fundy won’t see where I’m coming from.” Tubbo gave a mirthless laugh. “To think that Dream of all people would be the only one to respect me--that’s a bit ironic, isn’t it?”

Techno gave a languid shrug. “I’ve said before that your entire cabinet reeks of incompetence. Governments never work out in the end, from what I’ve seen: people are usually only in it for the power or the prestige. People like you, Tubbo, are a rare commodity. It’s not often that there’s somebody in office who genuinely wants to better the lives of others.”

“Thanks Bl-Techno,” Tubbo amended, startled by the unexpected praise. “But to be honest, I’m thinking of resigning, and giving up my position as president.”  
  


“And why’s that?”

“Because,” Tubbo grit through his teeth, “there’s no point! I thought that I could lead L’Manberg into smoother waters as president! Hell, that’s the only reason why I accepted Wilbur’s nomination. What’s the point of being president if your cabinet members question your every move? What’s the point of holding a leadership position when your own people don’t see you as a leader? What’s the point,” Tubbo whispered, tears now dripping down his cheeks. “What’s the point of trying to save L’Manberg when I can’t even save my own best friend?”

He began to sob quietly into his hands, curling in on himself. The full brunt of the consequences crashed over him like a wave, Tommy’s words rushing back to him. _It’s always been me and you against Dream, Big T_. And now that was all gone, yet another dream deferred. How could they fight back against Dream, divided as they were?

A sudden warmth over his shoulders caused Tubbo to flinch. Techno had removed his cape, and had delicately draped it over the president’s shoulders. A weighty silence fell over the two, until Techno began slowly, “I saw Tommy earlier.”

“You did?” Tubbo asked, wide eyed.

“Yeah. He’s doing alright for himself, all things considered. He and Ghostbur have got a campsite setup, and I’ll check up on them for you.” A nonchalant shrug accompanied the man’s words, as though he was talking about something as trivial as the weather.

“You will?” the president asked softly. “I thought that…”

“Despite everything, Tubbo, he’s still my brother. I even went as far as to offer my help, though he’s still bitter about my ‘betrayal’. But the offer still stands, and I can tell that you still care immensely about him, despite what others might think.”

Techno reached into his pocket, and drew out a polished emerald pin. “I gave three of these to Phil earlier, but I had an extra on me. I know that you probably have a surplus of emeralds on you since the revolution,”--Tubbo tried not to squirm guiltily--“but these are a bit special. The pin was dropped into Tubbo’s palm, and he squinted to read the insignia. 

_Friendship emeralds._

“And you’re really sure I can have this? Seeing as we’re enemies and all…”

Techno gave a feral grin, his scarlet eyes glimmering. “One day Tubbo, you’ll see that I’m right and that governments aren’t necessary to form a peaceful society. But until then, I’m content waiting a bit, see how things play out.” He tossed his head. “It suits you. A pin, for the kingpin of L’Manberg.”

Tubbo took the pin and placed it in the pocket of his coat. He stood, appraising the pinkette. “Thank you, Techno, for coming to see me. I wasn’t expecting visitors tonight, but seems as though fate had other things in mind.”

“Until next time, Mr. President,” Techno responded mockingly. And with those words, he was off, a blur in the night, with only the cape draping Tubbo’s shoulders being proof the other man had been there at all.

Tubbo yawned. It was late, he ought to get back to his abode before he got sidetracked. 

And if by some chance, he found himself scrawling out letters to Tommy, well nobody but himself would be the wiser. 


End file.
